Over forty years ago, on a rainy evening in New York City, business associates told me that we would dine that night at a new restaurant on the Upper East Side called PRONTO RISTORANTE. Bring from Minnesota, my expectations were low. Were we going to dine on some version of State Fair PRONTO PUPS or corndogs?
As our taxi pulled up to the restaurant, I was surprised by the line of people extending down the block – and even more surprised to see DUSTIN HOFFMAN in the queue.
We finally worked our way to the door and walked into this stunning, gleaming, white subway-tiled dining room with a little open kitchen smack-dab in the middle. An Italian Mama appeared to be making noodles there. Having recently launched MUFFULETTA, I knew just a little bit about restaurant food costs. Freshly made strips of pasta hung from racks, next to which were flats of brown eggs and stacks of bagged flour. Now at that time, I believe eggs were about 4 cents apiece and there was no need whatsoever to cost out flour. More important was the fact that these plates of flour and egg noodles were coming out of this little kitchen to the tune of about $20 a crack and that Dustin Hoffman was waiting in a long line to get one.
I called my partner, Pete, that night and the next morning he arrived in New York to see this thing called PRONTO. By the middle of the afternoon, we had a hand-shake deal with the owners to open one in Minneapolis.
Well, it so happened that the new Hyatt Regency was in the final stages of construction on Nicollet Mall near Orchestra Hall and by chance the developer was from New York. Even more of a coincidence: Pronto was his favorite restaurant in all of New York.
So, it didn’t take long for Pete and Phil, these two young, confident but naïve entrepreneurs, to hammer out a lease for the new Minneapolis Pronto.
But REALITY STRUCK…and STRUCK HARD: We didn’t know JACK-SHIT about Italian food.
Now Joanne and I had been subscribing to the New York Times for a couple of years, mainly for the Travel section, and I vaguely recalled a recent column written by the renowned Times food editor, Craig Claiborne, regarding an emerging expert and teacher of Italian cuisine.
Her name was Marcella something.
I checked her out and was pleased and excited that this person – MARCELLA HAZAN was her name – had published a cookbook and was holding two-week Italian cooking classes in Bologna, Italy.
It was clear what had to be done: PETE AND I HAD TO GO TO COOKING SCHOOL IN ITALY.
With families in tow, we boarded our first flight ever on Alitalia (the airline with the hair under its wings). In 1980, Bologna wasn’t well known or highly regarded…and Marcella Hazan was not yet MARCELLA HAZAN. In fact, being the 6th largest city in Italy, Bologna was something of a tourist backwater at the time.
What we encountered was a world-class destination – an enchanting medieval city, untouched and unspoiled by the throngs of mouth-breathing tourists, boasting a network of covered walkways with arched colonnades.
We learned that Bologna had a number of nicknames, including “The Learned” (in reference to the University of Bologna, the oldest university in the western world, founded in 1088), “The Fat” (highlighting its reputation for rich, hearty food – the hallmark of Emilia-Romagna) and “The Red” (in recognition of its brick architecture, iconic terracotta roofs and warm-colored buildings –but primarily for the thriving stronghold of the communist party in Bologna.
So much for all that…
It’s time to go to COOKING SCHOOL.
The first evening was a seminar on the geography and cuisine of Italy, loaded with MARCELLA’S COMMANDMENTS.
Among them:
- “The less basil cooks, the more flavor it has.”
- “The less basil cooks, the more flavor it has.”
- “Use only the very freshest, highest-quality ingredients. Do not skimp…ever! Celebrate the simple, clear expressions of the primary flavors.
- “Since Italy only became a united country in 1861, there is no singular Italian cuisine, but possibly as many local cuisines as there are regions and provinces – somewhere between 20 and 100, each with its own distinctive climate, soil, water, products, flavors and techniques.”
- “Never stop stirring risotto.”
- “If I had invented pasta salad, I would hide.”
- “In cooking, what you keep out is just as important as what you put in.”
- “Use no Parmesan cheese that is not Parmigiano-Reggiano.”
- “Never buy grated cheese of any type. Grate the wedge yourself.”
- “Not everyone in Italy knows how to cook, but everyone knows how to eat.”
- “80% of Italian cooking is done in a sauté pan.”
Classes began early the next morning with a visit to the FRESH MARKET just off the main square, where Marcella encouraged us to squeeze and smell the bounty of the region. Next stop was TAMBURINI, the iconic deli, and SALUMERIA OF BOLOGNA, where we watched a cured-meat artisan create a colossal round of mind-numbing, heart-stopping MORTADELLA, the iconic cold-cut with finely ground pink pork studded with fat cubes and pistachios.
In the following days we visited farms to see the making and aging of PARMIGIANO-REGGIANO CHEESE. We went to Modena to witness the production of BALSAMIC VINEGAR aged for years in oak or mulberry small barrels. And we visited Parma to see PROSCUITTO HAM being cured.
Classes back in Marcella’s kitchen included pasta production – especially tortellini, the most famous pasta of Emilia-Romagna.
I’d never heard of monkfish, the ugliest, meanest-looking fish on the planet. But there it was, in the kitchen one morning ready to be worked over by the local fishmonger, selected by Marcella to instruct us in the art of MONKFISH BUTCHERING. I learned that the only edible part of the monster fish was the tail. Check out young Pete cleaning the tail.
As Pete Wells of the New York Times stated, “Marcella will have gained a place in history, if she had done nothing else, except her roasted ENGAGEMENT CHICKEN.” Where does the name come from? Well, it’s said to be so delicious that after girls dine on the chicken with their boyfriend, diamond rings and marriage proposals are miraculously proffered. HMMMM? Engagement or not, the roast chicken recipe is simple, satisfying and utterly delicious, being seasoned only with salt and pepper, then stuffed with two toothpick-punctured lemons, resulting in a memorably salty and crispy skin with a bright and lemony flavor. It’s in her book.
Marcella’s husband, a wine expert named Victor, taught a daily Italian wine tutorial to the class…with generous samplings. I had a buzz by late morning.
They were a pair to behold – sweet and complementary to one another.
I think Pete and I managed to graduate with “Gentlemen’s C’s.”
Back to PRONTO. 1981. And the MARCELLA EFFECT.
Opening in the new Hyatt with a vivid measure of razzle-dazzle, Pronto certainly made an impression on Minnesotans. Some were dazzled by what they saw. Others recoiled from the white-tiled, chrome and brass dining room and said, “Am I eating in a drug store?” “It’s not cozy” “Too bright and shrill.”
What most everyone liked was the novelty and theater of the noodle-making kitchen, a replica of what I’d seen in New York. They did, however, have mixed feelings about its output. “What the hell are those noodles doing in a white sauce? Spaghetti should be covered in tomato sauce and sprinkled with that delicious KRAFT cheese from the bright green can.”
But the white sauces soon became wildly popular. And I will forever thank Marcella for LINGUINE IN WHITE CLAM SAUCE…RAVIOLI WITH TOASTED SAGE IN BROWN BUTTER…FETTUCCINE CARBONARA, of course…and our knockout TORTELLINI BARONESSA, made with cream, mushrooms, butter, peas and prosciutto.
A few years later, we opened FIGLIO – and here, too, Marcella made her mark. We served Tortellini Baronessa to a wildly enthusiastic audience. Then there was the top seller at Figlio: Marcella’s RAVIOLI POMODORO, filled with mozzarella and ricotta cheese in a meatless tomato sauce consisting of just three ingredients – canned San Marzano tomatoes, a whole onion, and a stick of butter. That’s it. Look it up.
For those of you who cook, MAKE HER BOLOGNESE SAUCE. It is deep, bold, intense and smooth all at once – the gold standard for Bolognese. Marcella’s secret? Butter, nutmeg and a cup of whole milk.
Pete Well’s accurately stated, “Marcella didn’t have FOLLOWERS. She had DISCIPLES.”
I was, and forever will be, a DISCIPLE.
Marcella had a reputation for being somewhat vexing. For instance, she didn’t measure. “Just a little of this…and some of that…a little taste…a dash or a handful.” Imagine the exasperation of her cookbook’s publisher, Knopf, when writing her recipes. (But also imagine the THRILL of how well the cookbooks sold.)
Marcella was kind and sweet…despite, as Pete Wells noted, her “reputation for being impatient, brusque, solidly accented, cured in cigarette smoke and marinated in Jack Daniel’s.”
So, when I asked her, “Marcella, how long do you roast an Engagement Chicken?” she curtly replied, “UNTIL IT’S DONE.”
WTF,
PHIL